"SNOW!!" said my daughter this morning, looking out the window and jumping up and down with excitement.
"Snow," I echoed, considerably less impressed.
My girl looked back at me, surprised. "Mom?" she asked. "Don't you like snow?"
Ummmmm, well, sure. Kind of. I mean, in a poetic sense. On a Christmas card. Looking through a window. Watching it drift as I read in front of the fire. I like snow. Or, I like the idea of snow. You know, that pretty, picture-perfect snow.
Just not the soggy, icy, leaking-through-the-boot, slogging-through-the-expressway kind of snow. That's all.
But now my son had joined my daughter, and they were ooohing and aahhing out the window. What could I do? I joined them.
"Snow!" I said.
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